


Learn To Let You Go

by AnnieVH



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hell, The Dark One (Once Upon a Time), Vault - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8760628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: Upon trying to rescue his son from hell, Rumpelstiltskin is asked to make a difficult decision. There shall be ANGST.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: mention of previous torture, blood, and miscarriage.
> 
> Notes: this is a late fic for @mysticknightsofscotland . I’m sorry it took so long
> 
> Beta: @maddiebonanafana

 

There was clarity outside, Rumpelstiltskin could see it, though the entrance of the vault remained close. Its edges had acquired a pale light, an ominous announcement of the new day rising above them, as out of their reach as any chance of escaping.

Belle closed the door behind them, though she knew that alone would not stop the inevitable.

“We need to go, _now_!” she said, unnecessarily, as a feral roar grew from the depths of the halls they had left behind and found their ears. It spoke no words but they knew what it meant: they were angry, they were many, and they were coming.

Neal, always the protective one, put himself in front of her, even though Belle was in much better shape than he was at that point. He passed the arm that wasn't broken around her and whispered, “Stay behind me.”

Despite the horrors he had witnessed that night, it was the first time Rumpelstiltskin actually felt fear. Neal, the son he'd just rescued from the darkest dungeon in that blasted vault, bruised and battered, tossed in the shadow as if he was worth nothing to no one, his son was trying to protect them still – and unless he opened the vault in time, their effort would have been in vain and the Dark Ones would drag him back to where they'd rescued him.

Their way out stood just above them, a round stone door, the runes on its surface glowing but unresponsive to the enchantment Rumpelstiltskin was using. A tremor grew on the tip of his fingers when the protection spells pushed back. Coming in had been easy, leaving should not be this difficult.

The torches around them flickered and died with a sudden rush of wind, only the one Belle held in her hand was spared.

Though the Dark Ones could burst into the room at any moment, they stood just outside, banging on the door, making the rusted hinges rattle. This was all a game to them.

“They're here, dad,” Neal said, urging him to work faster, fear evident in his voice.

There was no working faster, though. Rumpelstiltskin, with his hands above his head, stared at the round entrance of the vault and pushed with all his might, but the stone wouldn't budge.

Finally, his arms gave in.

“It won't open,” he said, under his breath.

“What?” Belle asked, above the noise of the door.

“It won't open! Something is-”

They assumed “wrong” was the word to follow, but before Rumple could speak the door broke free of its hinges and darkness invaded the room, aiming for the three of them. Neal held on to Belle, even though he was shaking at the sight of the monster that had haunted him for three years. He knew all too well what Dark Ones were capable of, especially when they were in their most primal form.

Rumple jumped in front of them with his hands up, holding them back with a blast of magic, dispersing the formless smoke. The Dark Ones might be powerful, but they were all dead. Without each other, their strength was limited. If need be, Rumple could hold them off long enough for Belle and Neal to escape.

Except that time was not on their side.

And there was nowhere to escape to.

The smoke dissipated slowly, revealing dozens of cloaked figureswho, despite being less powerful, looked even more threatening than they did before as they stood around them, side by side. Zoso was the only one to pull back his hood and reveal his face, as he stepped forward. Rumple kept his hands up to fight him off, if necessary, though he could tell Zoso wasn't interested in another physical confrontation.

“Old friend,” he said, a somber greeting that felt more like a taunt. He stood a couple of feet away, making not attempts to come closer.

“Don't call me friend,” Rumple snared back, never taking his eyes off of him. “You chased us down and tried to take my son.”

At the mention of him, Zoso's eyes aimed for Neal. That alone made the boy's heart begin to race. Rumple could hear it, so very loud and so very _alive_.

“You stole him from us,” Zoso said, his voice lacking in feeling. Neal might as well have been a golden coin.

“He does not belong to you.”

“He does now,” he said, never looking away from Neal. “He offered to take your place down here. He's ours now.”

Rumpelstiltskin heard the soft sound of a whimper but didn't turn around. If he had to see his son's face again, the bruises, the blood, the look of absolute terror that three years had imprinted on his face, he'd lose his temper and attack every spirit in that room. It didn't matter that they were already dead, he'd find a way to make them pay. However, the night was almost over and he had to keep his focus; if he lost sight of their goal now, they'd all be locked in there until the next cycle began, and that could take another ten years, at least.

Zoso extended a hand, palm up, asking, “Return him to us.”

“We're leaving Zoso,” Rumple told him, through gritted teeth. “You're not strong enough to keep that door closed.”

Somewhere behind him, a woman laughed. So many times before he'd heard that same sound, full of mockery, inside his own head, but it didn't make it any less sinister.

Zoso wasn't laughing though. He just looked at Rumpelstiltskin, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. “You thought there'd be no price to pay. That's unusually naive.”

Belle was the one to say, “The price has been paid,” her voice sounding so haunted that Neal looked at her, a question in his eyes that she wasn't ready to answer. “And the stars are in place,” Belle continued. “We can come and go as we please.”

“Blood bought your way in, yes, but not your way out.”

“Hades never mentioned-” Belle protested, as if the Dark Ones would listen to an argument as feeble as “we didn't know the rules”.

“Bargained with the God of Death...” Zoso interrupted, narrowing his eyes at Rumpelstiltskin. “No... you don't bargain and neither does he. You forced his hand. With the green witch he's so fond of-”

“Get out of my head, Zoso,” Rumple warned him.

“I don't need to be in your head. I know you. The many horrible things he's done for that boy. And you-” His eyes found Belle's face underneath the torch. To his surprise, Zoso's expression softened into disappointment. “You condoned them. What has he done to you, girl?”

“You're stalling us,” Rumpelstiltskin snapped. “What is it you want?”

“We do not want,” Zoso told him, as if correcting a student who'd given him the wrong answer. “There is a price. We do not choose it, it is the way it is-”

“What is the price to pay, Zoso?”

“Not pay. _Trade_.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at him, the word sinking in. Zoso's eyes were still on Belle, gazing deep into her soul.

He lowered his hands slowly, saying, “No.”

“It has to be a trade, Rumpelstiltskin,” Zoso stated. “This is not a deal you can change or break.”

“You can have my power,” Rumple offered.

“We do not need your power.”

“Have _me_ , then.”

“We've had you before. Now it's their turn.”

“Papa...” Neal called. Rumple could hear that he was terrified, but there was something else in there, a resigned note that he didn't like.

His boy was ready to give up.

“You can't have him back,” Rumple said.

“Then we shall have your bride.”

“No!” Neal jumped in front of her again, but Belle held him back, saying, “Rumple-”

“This can't be it! There must be something that you want!” Rumple demanded.

“This isn't what we _want_ , Rumpelstiltskin,” Zoso told him, a hint of frustration in his voice. “We _want_ nothing. These are simply the rules.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked into his eyes, looking for a hint of humanity in them. There was none. It had been corrupted and stolen away too many centuries ago. What was left was the shell of a man that darkness filled and controlled. Rumpelstiltskin still tried, “Please.”

Zoso remained unmerciful. “Your child or your bride. You have three minutes before the sun is fully risen and all of you become ours.”

“Rumple-” Belle took his arm. He tried to shake her hands off, but she didn't let go until he turned to face her. “Rumple, it's okay-”

“Belle, no,” Neal said, his voice weak.

“You have to take your son home,” she said, as if she hadn't heard him. “That is why we came here in the first place-”

“She can't stay behind!” Neal protested, and his father lowered his head, overwhelmed. “Look at what they did to me! It's nothing compared to what they'll do to her.”

“You've been through enough. You can barely stand-”

“And what do you think will happen to you if you stay?”

“What do you think will happen to _you_ if you stay?” Belle all but shouted at him. “You've been down here for _three years_ -”

“I'm already dead, Belle!”

“And I'm not! And they can't kill me for as long as I'm down here-”

“They'll destroy your soul-”

“You have a son, Neal! You have to be a good father-”

“ _Stop it_!” Rumple shouted.

In the silence Neal and Belle's voices left, Nimue laughed, entertained by their predicament, and some of her companions followed suit. Zoso didn't.

When Belle spoke again, her voice was soft and understanding, “Rumple, you love him more.”

Rumple tried to protest, “Belle-”

“I'm not jealous,” she said. “He's your son. I'd love my own child above all else. And I know that your love for me is true. But you're his father. It's your duty to save him. Henry needs him. You need him too. You haven't been yourself since you lost him-” She took her husband's face between her hands, brushing his tears away with her thumbs. “I'll be fine. The stars will align again in ten years and you'll come back for me and you'll save me-”

“You need her to save me.”

Rumpelstiltskin turned his gaze to his son. There was fear in his eyes, but his voice didn't tremble anymore.

“You want it all, Papa. I know you. You want to keep her and you want to keep me. She's the one who'll find out how.”

“That's not true-” Belle tried.

Neal didn't give her the chance. “No! You were the one who made the deal with Hades, but she was the one who found the vault and the spell. She discovered how to get in once. Now you go back out and find a way to get me out-”

“In another ten years!” Belle cried. She turned back to her husband, desperate. “Rumple, please, you can't know for sure-”

“You _can_ know for sure because you trust her,” Neal said. “She's the smartest person you know. And you-you will find a loophole. You always do.”

Rumple shook his head, searching for a way out. This couldn't be it.

“I can't leave you here,” he cried.

“You leave _her_ here you know we won't be able to rescue her. You leave me and I'll know you'll both be back for me.”

“That's not true, Rumple-”

“It is,” Rumpelstiltskin said, heartbroken.

Through the blood and bruises, Neal tried to smile. “I can take it, Papa. They didn't break me in three years, they won't break me in ten. I'll be here until you come back for me.”

Rumple walked past Belle, who was still protesting and calling his name, and wrapped his arms around his son. Neal wasn't crying, though there were tears in his eyes.

“I'll come back for you, Bae,” Rumple said, through sobs, looking into his eyes. “I promise I will.”

“I know.”

“This time I will. Ten years, no more than that.”

Zoso called, “One minute, Rumpelstiltskin. What will it be? Your wife or your child?”

“You already know my answer.”

“You need to say it.”

Neal brushed hair off his face, a gentle touch that only made him cry harder. “It's alright, Papa. They won't let you go otherwise.”

“Bae-”

“You can say it. It's alright.”

Belle still tried, “Rumple, please-” but it was of no use.

In a swift whisper, as if he didn't want to hear his own voice, Rumpelstiltskin said, “I leave behind my child.”

The vault opened.

 

*

 

Rumpelstiltskin woke up with the sound of David's voice echoing down the well, “Guys? Are you out?” The other man's head was peeking from above, a silhouette against the morning sun, the sky a bright shade of yellow that burned in his eyes. Underneath him, the wet dirt from the bottom of the well was soaking his suit, and the cold stone of the vault was hurting his back. Someone was holding on to his arm.

Belle. Both hands clinging to him with impressive strength. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling as if she were asleep. His beautiful, brilliant wife, safe and sound and with him.

Her eyes opened. Rumple tried to smile in a reassuring way, despite the deep sorrow and failure that was crushing his chest.

“Morning, beautiful Belle,” he said.

A glimpse of relief flickered on Belle's face, but then she started crying as the reality of their situation seemed to hit her. They had failed. They'd gone through such great lengths – she had faced the God of Death, walked into hell, and ultimately tarnished her heart for a mission that, in the end, proved to be futile.

Rumpelstiltskin shushed her, silencing his own grief as he decided what to tell her now. Nothing had changed between them, he did not blame her nor did he regret his decision. Bae was right. If they wanted to save him, they'd have to work together. This was their best chance and they wouldn't give up.

And that was when someone to his right drew in a deep breath, the noise gasping and desperate, startling him.

Neal.

Baelfire.

His son, looking at him bewildered, as if he'd just woken up from a terrible nightmare.

“ _Bae_!”

Rumple jumped on his son, wrapping his arms around him, squeezing him so tight Neal said, “Ow, ow, ow, broken bones, ow!”

From above, David asked again, “Guys?”

“We're here!” Rumple shouted back. “We're here, we're... we're _all_ here!”

“You were supposed to have left me,” Neal said, an implied accusation in his tone. “I'm not supposed to be here! Where is- _Belle_!”

He dodged his father's arms to crawl next to her. Rumple continued to hold on to what was left of his shirt.

Belle continued to cry, and the sight of Neal only made her cry harder.

Not that he could blame her. Hell, _he_ was crying. He wouldn't stop anytime soon.

“She's alright, Bae, we're all fine,” Rumple said, in disbelief. A happy ending. Their story actually had a happy ending.

“Why did they let us all go?” Neal asked, above the sound of Belle's sobbing.

Rumple was about to say that he didn't know and he didn't care and that they should just get as far away from that vault as possible, perhaps blow up the well in the process, just to make sure everything remained dead and buried, when Belle said, “They didn't.”

“Belle, sweetheart, it's alright,” he said, understanding her confusion. “We're all safe-”

“I'm bleeding.”

“What?” Neal said, letting her go and giving her a look over.

There were not cuts or bruises that they could see. And yet, she continued to sob, verging on desperation.

“I'm bleeding. I'm bleeding, oh please, no, oh god, no, no, no...”

 

*

 

With the wave of Rumpelstiltskin's hand, they were transported to the hospital, along with David – who wasn't informed of that decision until he found himself in the middle of the ER, Rumpelstiltskin suddenly in his face, barking at him, “ _You know these idiot doctors! Do something!_ ” as he held his wife in his arms. Neal was beside him, barely able to stand.

It wasn't until David spotted the puddle of blood forming on the floor that he was set in motion, screaming for Doctor Whale.

Belle was rushed away on a stretcher, hands clutching her stomach as she continued to repeat that terrible mantra, “No, no, no, please, no.”

Neal was forced into a wheelchair. Any other day, he'd have protested. Today, his legs were too tired and his body too broken to do more than just give in and accept the help of the nurses.

For a moment, Rumpelstiltskin stood in the hallway, unsure of who to follow, until David tried to take him back to the waiting room. Neal heard his father scream something. Two nurses screamed back, telling him to calm the hell down, that he was not helping anyone with that kind of behavior. Then his wheelchair turned the corner, leaving his father behind.

For the next two hours, he was X-rayed, stitched, and casted, his many questions getting evasive answers, or being completely ignored. Dr. Whale was the only one to offer him some information, vague as it was, claiming, “Belle was given to the cares of another doctor. One that'd be more fitting to her case than me.”

“What does that mean?” Neal asked, more alarmed than he'd been before. “Is she dying-”

“No, no, she'll be fine.”

Neal didn't seem to believe him, so Whale said, “If you promise to stay in your bed, I'll go find your father and you can talk, yes?”

Neal grumbled in agreement. Nothing made you compliant like a dozen broken bones.

Rumpelstiltskin still took another thirty minutes to come, just as a nurse left his room with an empty tray of food. The pasta had been tasteless and the chicken, overcooked, but Neal had devoured everything in one breath.

“How are you feeling, Bae?” his father asked, eyes wet.

“Is she alright?” Neal asked, urgent. “Did they come and take her?”

Rumple shushed him and ran a hand through his son's hair. There were bandages and stitches everywhere and a very large bump on the back of his head that made Neal wince when his fingers brushed over it, no matter how gentle his touch was.

“Don't get agitated, Baelfire.”

“But is she fine?”

“She's fine. She'll be fine.”

“You're lying.”

Rumple stared at him, then said, “She's alive, Bae. She's strong. They're not coming for her. For neither of you.”

“Then what happened?” he insisted.

“Nothing that was your doing. You need to know that.”

“Why? What happened?”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed and tried to smile at his son, but couldn't.

“I thought they meant you when they said child,” he explained. “Or perhaps they did. Perhaps it wasn't a matter of words and they just chose...”

His voice broke and, suddenly, Neal understood.

“Oh, Papa...” he said, tearfully. “How far was she?”

“Five weeks.”

He spoke that number with such pain it might as well have been nine months.

“She didn't know yet. _They_ did, they had to, but she...”

“Is she truly alright?”

“Not now,” he confessed. “But she will be. Eventually. We all will. She just... she needs a good cry. She needs to grieve.”

Something horrifying occurred to Neal. It must have shown in his eyes, because his father asked, “What is it?”

“Is it... down there with them?”

Rumple pondered on the question for so long Neal thought he'd avoid it altogether, but then he said, “You know, Belle asked me the same thing. I don't know. I don't think he... she...” He shook his head, eyes closed as he tried to focus again. “It was small. It was barely a life at all. They just took it away.”

“Then why did they even bother?”

Rumple thought about it. “I suppose... that the price wasn't a life at all. It was just... _pain_.”

Neal saw the grief in his eyes. If his father was right and the price was just to cause them heartbreak, he was paying it right now. He couldn't even begin to imagine how Belle was feeling.

He reached to touch Rumple's arm with the hand that wasn't bandaged. “I'm sorry, Papa.”

“Don't say you're sorry,” he said, suddenly very somber. “None of us blames you.”

“But if I hadn't-”

“I love you,” he said, resolute. “I love all my children the same. I'm glad you're here with me. And Belle feels the same way. She doesn't want you to feel guilty.”

Neal nodded, more to put his father's mind at ease than because he agreed with him

“I need to go be with Belle now, but Henry is just outside. He wants to see you.”

“Does he?” Neal asked, meekly.

“Of course. Why wouldn't he?”

 _Because I left him_ , Neal didn't say.

Rumple gave him a kiss on the temple.

“I'll ask him to come in. I'm going to check on you later, yes?”

His father left the room and, not a minute after, Henry came in. Neal's heart began to pound against his chest. His son. When did he become this tall and handsome? As he pulled his son into a hug, he tried not to think of Belle – poor Belle, somewhere in this hospital, grieving for a son or daughter she'd never get the chance to hold – and despite the guilt and the sorrow, Neal couldn't help but be glad he was finally free.

 

 


End file.
